


voidless

by nevergreen



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Choking, Crying, Dacryphilia, Face-Fucking, M/M, some rough stuff but with Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29839434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevergreen/pseuds/nevergreen
Summary: As soon as Eddy pauses the game and takes both their controllers away, Brett knows what's going to follow.His responsibilities are: take Eddy's glasses off, lean back, and try not to forget the rules.
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 11
Kudos: 65





	voidless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [space_sheep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_sheep/gifts).



> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/twosetforti) for all kinds of screaming
> 
> PLEASE READ THE TAGS! some graphic nsfw stuff! don't read if you're not comfortable with it!

The TV is still on, though muted long ago, and the character selection screen goes on forever, replaying the same animations over and over; their controllers are lost somewhere between the pillows and a blanket; it starts under Brett’s ass and goes under Eddy’s knees, folded twice. 

Their air conditioning unit is humming quietly, and there are faint, distant sounds of the city from the window opened somewhere in their apartment; they intertwine, creating a low noise, comforting and quiet. Eddy closes his eyes, concentrates on his breath - in and out, no rush, there’s no need to rush - and slides his tongue along the underside of Brett’s cock, pressing in, teasing him, studying the reaction, until he finds a spot under the very tip, the one which makes Brett whine quietly, gripping his cock harder, and squeeze his eyes shut. 

It feels so good, being a reason for this, knowing he has drawn out these sounds; they come and go like tiny waves, and if Eddy does everything right, they will merge into a bigger one. So Eddy plays around for a while; tapping and licking and slowly pressing in, the upper lip touching the scorching hot, sensitive skin, until Brett moves away a little. Eddy can’t move after him, these are rules; so he swallows hard, savouring Brett’s taste, and stays put. 

They try to establish some kind of routine in every sphere of their life, but sex is an exception - partly because of how different they are in bed. Brett is spontaneous and unpredictable, it’s almost as if he strives to be as chaotic as possible; he fucks the same way he plays violin - passionate and straightforward, full of energy, no matter what he’s doing. Eddy often wants to make it into a sweet and long prelude, because he’s such a sucker for everything slow and meticulous, long sessions of studying each other close, smothered with pleasure. Sometimes they’re both too impatient and hungry for each other, or are down to try and explore.

There’s a thing, though; an exception for an exception. It’s Eddy’s exclusive; Brett calls it “a hard reset”. Eddy calls it “a thought cockblock”. Both agree that it works. The rules are simple; Eddy came up with them himself, and he knows a thing or two about restricting himself for every kind of purpose. They are: don’t move. Don’t hold back. And the most important one: don’t think. 

He’s violating the third rule so hard, already; so he throws all his thoughts away, everything but Brett; all else is no more than a bother. The next second, he sees Brett leaning in, his mouth is curved in a mix of anticipation and pleasure; Eddy wants to kiss it off this pretty pink mouth. His own lips are chapped; no matter how much he licks them, they dry too fast. 

Brett notices, too; he touches Eddy’s lips with his thumb, making him open his mouth a little more, then spits down, and there’s this prolonged, lingering moment with the string of spit stretches between Brett’s lips and his cock, gleaming in the uneven TV light. He smudges Eddy’s wet lips with a tip, and maybe the mix of saliva and precum is not the best lip balm ever, but Eddy takes it all, even letting Brett do a little slap at the end.

Brett’s free hand slides into his hair, grips and tugs a little; he holds Eddy sure and firm, as if making sure he’s not going to move an inch. Then he moves his hips instead, slides closer - a small thrust forward, and he slides into Eddy’s mouth. The taste, the smell, the weight of Brett’s cock on Eddy’s tongue make him dizzy, swallowing frantically, drinking it, breathing it in; he needs it all, everything Brett can give him.

“Eddy,” Brett murmurs as if hearing his thoughts, thrusting into his mouth again; Eddy sucks in with a small popping sound, letting him deeper and further, and hums questioningly. It’s a low sound from the back of his throat, it sends a small vibration through his tongue, making Brett shudder, closing his eyes for a second. He’s patient and fucks Eddy’s mouth in a steady _moderato_ , for now; his rhythm is impeccable and only half of his cock is in Eddy’s mouth, as if he’s afraid to hurt him. 

_This is ridiculous_ , Eddy would say if he was able to speak; so he groans instead, it’s a long and drawn-out moan, which translates somewhat along the line of _I want to choke on your cock so much my pants are about to burst_. He would never say it out loud, they still need a lot of practice on this field, but Brett feels it like he feels everything between them; he knows Eddy’s thoughts like his own. His grip is getting harder, and Eddy can’t help but shut his eyes and groan again, a breathy, loud, low sound; he’s painfully hard, and if only he was allowed to touch himself, it would take him less than a minute to come.

“You love this,” Brett breathes out, watching Eddy’s face closely, and grazes his cheekbone with a thumb, then slides down and presses it into the cheek sucked in, stroking him tenderly where his cock moves against Eddy’s tongue. He thrusts harder, then, making the blanket fall down. The ring of his fingers around the base of his cock touches Eddy’s lips, the tip is lingering at the back of Eddy's tongue. “Maybe you need a bit more, huh.”

Eddy moans in agreement, barely keeping himself from moving closer. Brett’s hand is back in his hair, and his fingers are straining and relaxing in the same rhythm he thrusts in Eddy’s mouth. He’s going deeper, now, and when the tip of his cock slides past the tongue, to the throat, Eddy gags - a little, at first, then harder, choking and squirming and feeling tears forming in the corner of his eyes. _Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop_ , he thinks frantically, and these are a loud echo in his blissfully empty head. _Fuck the last thought out of me, you have no idea how good it feels_. 

Both of Brett’s hands are in Eddy’s hair, now, tugging and gripping hard; he moves closer to the edge of the couch, and thrusts deeper than ever before, then again and again. Eddy can’t keep his mouth closed anymore, spit dripping down his chin, tears trailing down his face; his jaw aches, and knees are wobbly. His voice comes out choked and muffled, and his mouth and nose are full of pungent, salty flavour. Brett’s thumbs are on Eddy’s face, slipping on the wet skin; and under his familiar hands, holding him sure and strong, Eddy slurps on his cock, sobbing and whimpering. Everything around is quivering, blurred by tears, and he’s blind and senseless, left at Brett’s mercy to guide him. 

And so Brett does - filling the room with wet sounds that Eddy’s mouth makes, and raspy, hoarse gasps Brett draws out of him every time his cock makes Eddy’s throat clench tight, cutting off his breath. Brett lets out a moan, then says something in a low, heavy voice; Eddy rather feels it than hears for real - it’s in Brett’s posture, in the way he slows down a bit before leaning in, but the actual words melt before they can reach Eddy’s mind. 

He gasps for air and pulls cheeks in, making Brett stop talking and draw his head back; whatever he’s trying to say, Eddy knows it all. His cheeks are burning from tears and his throat hurts badly, he’s asphyxiating, gasping for air, crying, his whole face is a mess; and there’s no place for anything else in his mind.  
Brett strokes Eddy’s cheek slowly and lovingly, and it’s so much of a contrast with how his mouth is being fucked fast and steady; Eddy feels Brett’s hand trembling and the cock throbbing in his mouth. He wipes away Eddy’s tears, and this time, his words cut through the thick fog of a blissful absence of thoughts Eddy basks in. 

“I love your face so much,” Brett breathes out, and continues touching it while pounding in Eddy's mouth hard; he brushes over sore, half-numb lips, wet eyelashes and the bridge of the nose with his fingers, and whispers away everything that seemingly comes to his mind, blabbering in pleasure. “You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty, I love the way you cry for me, babe,” and his voice cracks a bit at the end, too. He’s close, Eddy can feel it; he’s barely able to move his face at this point, only squeezing his eyelids shut in anticipation, feeling Brett shudder against Eddy’s tongue. 

Brett is so used to seeing him cry: over his grades, at first, then because of all that stress in uni; when they watched sad movies together (“What a tear-jerker,” Brett muffled, and they were hugging afterwards till Eddy stopped sobbing) and when they spent a night at Eddy’s after the failed Valentine’s Day because Eddy admitted he’s in love with Brett - crying out of fear of losing him, first, then out of immense relief, later. 

These tears, rolling down Eddy’s face now, are still something new to them both; Brett cradles his face and swears through gritted teeth, and Eddy feels his fingers opening his mouth, sliding inside; then Brett pulls his cock out and jerks it in fast, sharp motions. It takes him barely any time to come all over Eddy’s face, spilling a good load into his open mouth too; his tongue is coated in the warm, thick bitterness. Eddy wants to draw forward and give his cock a little bit more of aftercare, but he barely feels his face. Brett knows him way too well; he milks his cock dry down Eddy’s mouth, then aligns the palm with Eddy's stiffened jaw, smudging his own cum over the chin. 

Heart pounding in Eddy’s ears slows down a bit, and other sounds return too, step by step: Brett’s heavy breathing, and his own, ragged and uneven, the distant hum of streets. Brett is leaning on him, now, and he looks exhausted, with wet hair sticking to his forehead; Eddy lifts a heavy arm and grazes his neck with nails where Brett’s grown hair fuses with the neck of the t-shirt. Brett’s drenched in sweat and smells spices and warmth; his cum dries on Eddy’s face quickly, and he gives in to Eddy’s touch.

“You okay?” he murmurs; his eyes closed, but he does feel Eddy’s quick nod. Eddy doesn’t want to speak for infinity more; he lowers his head down, smudging the whole mess of it all over Brett’s lap, and he doesn’t care in the slightest. He’s still painfully hard, but it can wait; Brett pats his sticky cheek lightly. “God, your face is something else.” And, after a quick consideration:

“You know, when you cry, it’s usually... I feel a bit stressed because it means you feel bad.” _I didn’t_ , Eddy thinks, _everything but bad_. Brett seems to be searching for words for a while more. ”Shit, when you’re like this, it’s... it’s different, you actually make me...” he stutters, and Eddy nudges his nose against Brett's leg. _I know. Me too_. 

“Let’s unfuck your face,” Brett says, at last. “And fuck up something else.” _How poetic_ , Eddy wants to say, and doesn’t. If he’s going to destroy Brett’s ass first and his self-esteem in Smash Bros second, he’ll need to save some words up.


End file.
